Winterfell and Dragonstone
Horrible, horrible island. After spending three weeks here, Theon has no doubts about it anymore.
Winterfell was home, at least sort of. Dragonstone is prison.
In Winterfell he had Robb and Jon and the little ones. On Dragonstone he has only Shireen with her dolls and her ugly face.
Lady Catelyn was stern but gentle, like Theon's own mother. And she was beautiful. Lady Selyse is a shrew, bitter and cold.
Lord Eddard was ice – but ice can melt. Lord Stannis is stone. (And his castellan, Axell Florent is an old goat, hostile and hot-tempered.)
On Theon's first day, right after his arrival, Lord Stannis called for him and made Theon sit in his solar.
"Do you know why Robert entrusted me with you, not, for example, Lord Arryn?"
"I don't know, my lord" he said. Very politely, at least that was his intention.
"The King doesn't like me and never favors me, but he is aware of one thing. If your father rebels again, Jon Arryn wouldn't execute you. Many other lords in that royal cesspit wouldn't execute you. I would. And I will if it is necessary."
It was not a threat but a fact. And the only words that Lord Stannis had for him.
Eerie, soft singsong assails his ears.
Oh, and there is him. That dreadful creature.
"I know, I know, my little lord… I know, I know… Oh, oh, oh…"
Patchface is coming, so Theon climbs down the rock where he has been watching the waves from, and runs towards the castle.
He really hates this place.
